


i hear you

by kangeiko



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Community: fanfic100, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-26
Updated: 2006-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The voyage back: Lyta, G'Kar, and an unwelcome visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i hear you

  
On the voyage back, it only comes to her when she sleeps.

When awake - when aware and when prepared - she knows to keep her shields up. Some rebellious part of her hates it, but though it is painful and an inconvenience and - _why should I, why should I?_ \- she knows the alternative. What could be worse than to absorb another into her so completely? It had nearly come to that once, maybe twice before; the overwhelming need to crawl inside another's skin somewhat problematic when she could manage it easily enough. Once, maybe twice, and she could have worn him as a second skin, draped about her shoulders as easily as she wears her coat; one G'Kar skin layered on top of the other, fury and nobility and devotion until she knows that she would have gladly entered the airlock to rid herself of him. No; she knows the alternative well enough. It, too, is a nightmare ever-present.

She girdles her mind, building the walls as high as they will go, and cannot admit that it is only partly out of self-preservation. For G'Kar, sleeping next to her on the bunk, has done nothing to her that was not out of kindness, and it would be cruel to repay him in this manner.

And, still… _What makes you think that 'telepath' is a synonym for 'peeping tom'?_ Though how can it be only that, only a puerile need for tawdriness - she is not, she knows it, she is _not_, and why would she want to know G'Kar's sordid little secrets? Why ruin this new image he projects by burrowing into his thoughts to seek out those twisted, base images that reside in all minds? – no, indeed. It cannot be that simple, not that she is above it all. It is self-preservation, she thinks; she would not wish to wear a G'Kar-skin coat, all mottled flesh and endless sacrifice, no, not even to be as adored as he.

It is only when asleep and only after orgasm, that it comes to her: sharp eye-teeth digging into that tough, mottled hide.

There are, perhaps, other reasons to keep G'Kar outside of her wall, bricks and mortar and the barbed wire of bitterness.

The first time, she put it out of her mind as a stray thought: the debris of living.

_I had the strangest thought, the other day,_ she started to say to him, but did not. He didn't even notice, busy writing his devotion to the universe.

The second time, she paused and wondered at the coincidence.

_I had the strangest thought, G'Kar, only it was an accident, and -_

The third time, she dismissed it as a kink.

_I didn't think that it was the sort of thing you'd be into –_ but still G'Kar wrote placidly, his entire being focused on his labour.

The fourth time, G'Kar still buried inside her, eyes wide open and still gasping his completion, she felt the sense-memory crawl underneath her skin. _Sharp eye-teeth,_ and she pulled back with a haste that was almost painful.

"What – did you –" and he cannot complete the thought though he sees it, plainly enough. She did not think that Narns could blanch but there it is, writ across his face, his irises contracting in mortification.

They stopped after that; G'Kar did not wish to discuss it and, frankly, the very thought was enough to turn her stomach.

The fifth time, she pushed the thought away before it could intrude on her dream.

_Those sharp teeth fixed on the side of the neck as deft hands unlaced the leather vest that G'Kar always wore –_

She turned to glare at his sleeping form and wished him nightmares.

The sixth time almost cost G'Kar his other eye when she lashed out in her sleep, pushing those terrible, frightening teeth away.

The seventh was when she broke and changed their course, because the teeth were there but now she could feel the kiss that followed and – no. No. This could not continue. Not every night. Not every time she closed her eyes.

Londo Mollari would not be making this journey with them.

*

fin


End file.
